Not Mine
by Fluro-Green Skittles
Summary: 'This is not mine. Perchik, this is Motel Kamzoil.' Perchik is fascinated by this man, this tailor, and finds himself falling for him. It's not the same as his interest in Hodel, a quest to help her break from society, but something closer to love. Follow him through the story as his feelings develop for a man who must always belong to someone else- not his.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own Fiddler on the Roof. I feel somewhat bad for writing this, because there isn't any real chemistry there, I just really like both characters. Anyway, to make up for that I am making this otherwise cannon, which means one-sided because let's face it, it's impossible to swing it so that Motel loves anyone but Tzeitel (but that doesn't necessarily mean it'll be all internalised, almost a year passes in the intermission for me to play with). Perchick on the other hand shows hardly any emotion in the movie. For this reason, this is cannon to the movie, not the play, because in the play he sings the 'Now I Have Everything' song and cares about more than politics and breaking tradition. So yes, it's angsty, and not fair to Hodel, who I absolutely adore, but it had to be done. Enjoy my take on Perchik's character and the hidden thoughts behind his actions. P.S sorry if the quotes are off...**

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'This is not mine. Perchik, this is Motel Kamzoil.'

I swore that at that moment I could have turned and run. No, I wanted to say, no I can't teach your daughters, I can't share your meal. I wasn't supposed to feel like this about anybody. I was supposed to bury myself in politics and maybe one day die for a cause and know that I contributed something important to this changing world. I didn't believe in emotions like this, especially for someone that I'd never met before. It wasn't logical, and I thrived on logic.

The tailor, as I later found out he was, was in no way grand or eye-catching. He was clearly poor, not well-dressed or well-groomed. He had a scruffy beard and an old pair of glasses that sat awkwardly on his crooked nose, a flat hat on his head and prayer shawl at his waist like the rest of us. He held himself like a dog that had been kicked, as though any wrong move would end things. All in all, he wasn't the sort of person one was supposed to fall in love with. He was fairly plain and a little odd, to be frank, but I couldn't help but see something more in him. Without a word spoken, I knew his face would be drifting in my mind for days at least and, as he exchanged a secret look with the young woman beside him who was clearly as smitten with him as he was with her (what was it about him?), I cursed my luck for the thousandth time and then scolded myself for it because luck is no more than an idea over which we have complete control.

Tevye was introducing me to the others now, telling his two youngest daughters that I would be teaching them.

'I'm a very good teacher' I added to his description without thought.

I'd say I don't know why I said it but deep down I do. I said it for his sake. I said it like a foolish youth risking something important to impress a girl, idiotic stunts and cocky statements to draw oohs and ahhs from the lips of some pretty young lady in hopes that she'd someday send me a smile. Only it wasn't a smile I wanted and it wasn't a girl I was trying to impress. Though I knew it to be illogical, I had this twisted idea in the back of my head that Motel would see how talented I was, how kind and confident in my abilities, and fall willingly into my arms. I knew as I said it how stupid it sounded and turned my eyes quickly to the nearest girl to try to explain it away.

'I heard that the rabbi who must praise himself has a congregation of one' said said with an air of importance.

I liked this girl, Hodel. She wasn't afraid to speak her mind and I could see that, with a little encouragement, she may break from the stiff traditions stifling this little town. I made it my mission to help her out of it, give her a mind of her own, starting by complementing her wit.

She smiled as though I had told her I loved her and I wondered what I'd done. Then again, this may not have been such a bad thing after all, she was pretty and seemed to have a little more of a brain on her than most women in these little villages, so perhaps it wouldn't be all bad. I may wish to change traditions, but I'm not so deluded as to think it will be acceptable to woo a man any day soon. I'd never pictured myself with a woman, always kind of thinking I'd end up alone, but maybe she wouldn't be so bad if I absolutely had to choose- only if it came down to it though.

After that we all went about setting tables and washing at the well and generally getting things ready. There wasn't much talk. My eyes stayed on Motel for the remainder of the evening. I saw him whispering with Tzeitel, smiling at her words despite the concern in his expression. I saw how he bent his head in towards her so that she could hear his words and wondered what it must be like to be that close to him. I wondered also why I cared so much, a man that hadn't said two words to me, but I was like that. I could tell early on somebody's character and the way he looked at Tzeitel told me that he was a good person, kind and thoughtful and willing to do anything for the one he loved. If only that could be me.

Afterwards he looked nervous as he approached Reb Tevye, as though he had a question but changed his mind at last minute, instead wishing the man 'good Sabbath'. The meal passed as usual and the food was good, if not abundant, and before long we were retiring to bed. Tevye left on 'important business' directly after the meal. I couldn't help but ask myself what business a milkman could have so late in the evening.

That night I dreamt of Motel. It was a welcome change from my usual dreams of red flags and horses, weapons and shouting and freedom. Instead I dreamt of lips on mine. I dreamt of his voice whispering to me that I was his own personal miracle, and it didn't seem blasphemous- it seemed reverent. I dreamt of what he would taste like, what he would smell like, the feel of hard planes of muscle beneath my hands and thin hips drawn close against my own. I dreamt of what it would be like to belong to someone, not to have someone belong to me which was my closest alternative as a man in this time and place. I dreamt that I fell asleep in his arms, nothing between us to stop me feeling the heat of his skin against my own. When I woke up I forgot for a moment that he wasn't there and was disappointed to find myself alone.

What had I gotten myself into this time?

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**Sorry, this is incredibly brief but it's basically just to see if anyone's interested- updated with a review :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**This is for Batmanvsjoker84 in light of your recent review seeing as you're the only person as of yet to take interest in this story. Spelling in the last chapter has been fixed, hope that makes it a little easier to read :) This chapter will be flashback-y and hence mostly non-cannon because I like back stories.**

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Upon waking, I wasted more time than usual on washing and genuinely getting myself ready for the day. I was caught in deep reflection, reflection on how stupid I was to be getting myself into this sort of situation again- only this time it was worse because he was yet to, and surely never would, express any interest in me whatsoever, even in a friendly way. Also, last time I didn't have any delusions that it could turn into something real. It was all physical and, although enjoyable enough, I had no qualms when at the end of the day he would go back to his wife and he didn't stay with me in my dreams.

The fear was getting caught, being discovered for what I am and where my affections lie and therefore risking jail or even death and certainly losing my influence over others for the cause. That was what was the most important- the cause. It mattered more to both of us than anything we did once the doors were closed on the world. Freedom and political stability; a better Russia. That was what mattered, the only thing that mattered, and so when in the end it didn't work out, when he told me that he'd woken up to how wrong this all was, that he did love his wife after all, far too much to hurt her like this, I nodded, made myself scarce and left a week later to focus on the course somewhere else and improve the minds of children in the meantime. It didn't bother me too much. I could already tell that this wasn't the same.

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He was my professor for one of my more modern political classes at university, the one to finally open my mind to my apparently radical views at present. But that wasn't all he opened my mind to. He was attractive- a thousand times more so than Motel if I'm being honest about it but the pull wasn't quite the same. That's not to say I didn't. Notice him though, because notice him I did. Sometime I would zone out in classes just watching his lips move as he spoke and the slight sway of his hips as he made his way across the front of the lecture theatre. I was very interested in what he had to say, the lessons that he taught us still rest with me, but I couldn't always bring myself to concentrate on them fully. He was young, as far as teachers go, and had this amazing way with words that could bring a crowded room to silence in a matter of seconds. One day he asked me to stay back after class and I did so without question.

He closed the door behind me and moved closer until my back was up against it. He placed his hands either side of my head and I grew a little dizzy from the proximity.

'I've noticed you watching me.'

'O...of course I watch you, you're my teacher...'

'Not like that. You watch me differently to the others. I know what you feel, and it isn't just academic interest!'

'I...I..um...'

I couldn't find the words to deny it, and he could clearly see the panic written on my face, because he leant in closer and whispered in my ear 'Don'so worry, your secret's safe with me. After all, it takes one to know one.'

And just like that his lips were on mine, hard and fast and desperate. His tongue pushed its way into my mouth and for the first time I saw the appeal of something with no real goal at the end of it and no intellectual merit. I didn't think about the consequences. I forgot about his recent marriage about the fact that this could make things awkward in class and the fact that I was letting myself be dominated, expressing a vulnerability that I wasn't used to and didn't know I was comfortable with. I just clung to him, ran my fingers through his hair, grabbing it in clumps to tug him closer, wrapping one of my legs around his back so that I could feel every inch of him pressed up against me, gasping against the taste of him and then pulling back a fraction for just long enough for him to pull off my shirt. I'd never been so close to anybody else, and nor had I wanted to be. I gave him everything, all of me, and he took it- greedy and willing.

After that we met up often outside of class, several times a week. Sometimes we would stay in the classroom and other times we could hold ourselves back long enough to make it down the corridor to his office. Usually it was all a blur of limbs and skin and gasps and groans and slight pain and unimaginable pleasure and stars behind my eyelids, little room for words. But occasionally the clothes stayed on and he would sit in his chair at his desk and I would be seated opposite him, or in his lap if he so desired and we would just talk, and that was nice too. He would have a hand on my thigh, or clasping one of mine while the other stroked gently up and down my cheek and he muttered how beautiful I was and how lucky he felt. I would smile, sometimes blush, and respond with whatever was on my mind at the time, usually ideas about the future of Russia and plans for revolution. He always agreed with me and I never knew whether it was because my ideas had genuine merit or because I usually slept with him after.

He spoilt me as many people spoil their secret lover. He rewarded my time with him with little presents and showers of compliments, with winks sent my way during class, a secret smile when we crossed paths in the hallway, better grades. He would listen tirelessly to my rumblings of change and make his own contributions, seeming genuinely interested. He fulfilled my fantasies, intellectually or otherwise and I in turn gave in to his.

To him, I was almost a plaything, something secretly his to take out when he wanted and smile at across the room and shower with treats- a bottle of wine or a new hat he'd ask me to wear, that he couldn't really afford. He never ceased telling me how lovely I looked, how good I was to him, how glad he was that I felt the way he did and how it wouldn't be the same with anybody else. For me he was just a man, albeit an attractive man with decent academic interests, who was willing to subject himself to this this genre of relationship with another man. He was amazing and took good care of me and I was happy, but not happy like a lovesick youth and not out of my mind. I wasn't in love with him.

When he called it quits all of a sudden it barely stung. I missed him a little, but in no way felt betrayed. Nevertheless, I knew that it was time to get out of Kiev and make a new start and I swore to myself that I wouldn't lose my head, wouldn't let my mind stray from the cause and would never again get caught up in delusions of romance. The lasted barely a few months.

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I finally made my way outside, already mid-morning, and took Tevye's two youngest daughters down to the river for the lesson I'd promised them. I not sure why I chose there in particular, but I a know that it crossed my mind that Hodel had mentioned that she'd by passing by that area also.

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**Update with review**


	3. Chapter 3

**For BuboMuzziusFTW, sorry that this chapter came so long after your review.**

We were sitting on the grass by the riverbank and I had just finished telling the girls the story of Jacob. Hodel was washing clothes in the water and listening halfhartedly, she kept glancing over to us and I felt an unbidden desire to impress her. I could tell she had a brain in her and felt that if I could just get her to talk to me I could coax out some of that intelligence and free her from the trap of old customs. I wanted to make a friend of her and to share my ideas, and so I was hardly focused on re-telling bible stories that, with a father like Tevye, these girls had probably already heard.

'So you see children,' I finished, 'the bible clearly teaches us you can never trust an employer.'

The girls didn't seem convinced but I assured them that that was the correct interpretation. It was certainly one of the many lessons within the story and fit very well with my political beliefs- after all it's never too early to start opening children's eyes to the corruption dictating their way of life and the dangers of placing their trust in certain authorities, but I don't think that's really how the story is meant to be interpreted. It's about trusting God to bring you what he has promised even if that doesn't occur immediately, about patience and faith and love, especially love. But if we wait for God to bring us things we may be waiting forever, as often God works through us so we can't sit around and curse and pray and wait for the world to change. Then of course there is the question of love, and I don't know quite what Jacob and Rachel's story is trying to tell us about that but I'm not sure that I agree in any case. I don't like to think too much about the role of love in a marriage, the role of God in love, because I can't seem to find the kind of love that is appropriate for either.

It's a good job the children didn't have time to push me on it though or offer up their own interpretations because I wasn't ready to talk about anything outside of the political sphere. Their mother came by just as the lesson was coming to an end and sent them home. I stayed there a moment longer, reclining in the grass and flicking idly through my bible, pretending to read verses that I already knew until Hodel inevitably approached. She complimented my lesson and for a moment I was pleased, but then she kept talking.

'Although I'm not sure the Rabbi would agree with your interpretation.'

'Neither, I suppose, would the Rabbi's son.' I deflected, rather than defending my opinions.

That seemed to hit a nerve. I'm a revolutionary, I like making people uncomfortable if it forces them to think and to face to truth, so I kept poking by asking what she knew about him, hinting that his status was perhaps all that she was interested in.

'At least I know this,' she retorted, 'he has no strange ideas about turning the world upside down.'

Then she bade me good day and turned to leave, and I felt a kind of anger flare up inside of me and found myself talking again if only to make her stay a little longer. I couldn't stand to have her at odds with me, to have her leave, not when I was so close to hitting on something. I just wanted her to see that things can be different, that tradition isn't what makes the world turn around.

'You have wit,' I told her, 'even some intelligence.'

But apparently that's as far as chivalry goes where I'm concerned because as soon as she was facing me I began insulting her again, telling her that without curiosity her brain was a rusty tool and, overcome by choler, turning to leave her once more, perhaps she was a lost cause after all. Her next words only supported that theory.

'We have an old custom here,' there was that infernal word again, 'a boy talks respectfully to a girl. But that is too traditional for an advanced thinker like you.'

'Our traditions! Nothing must change. Everything is perfect as it is!' I mocked, and then I was launching into another of my rants, telling her of the changes happening all over, of all the traditions being developed or left behind.

Before I knew if we were dancing together. I'm not even really sure how it happened. One second I was telling her about how matchmakers are being phased out and then suddenly her hands were in mine and I was teaching her one of the dances that I learnt in Kiev. She looked a little shocked at first, but then she was smiling and I began to think that maybe I had started to turn her mind around, to help her see the stupidity in many unnecessary customs.

Then the dance was over and we were facing each other and she was looking up at me with a kind of trusting, curious silence and there was something in her eyes that made me wonder if I might have taken this too far. I wasn't certain, couldn't name what it was in her expression that made me uncomfortable, but I knew that I wanted Motel to look at me that way and so no good could come of it.

'There, we've just changed an old custom.'

I said it to remind her why we were dancing in the first place and to inform her that it was over now, but I don't know if the message was properly transmitted. My voice was a little breathy and I stumbled over my words. I was nervous, scared even, that this poor girl may be falling for me. She deserved better, and not the Rabbi's son either. She deserved a forward-thinker like me, someone who would nurture her spirit and intelligence, but also someone who wanted her- someone who would love her like I cannot. And I... Well I don't know what I deserved. To die for a better Russia perhaps? To stop leading Hodel on while lusting after her future brother-in-law, certainly. To be lonely and miserable and driven as always and keep it all locked away...

'Yes.' She replied, looking dazed, 'I mean... Thank you... I mean, good day!'

Then she was gone and I was left alone by the river for a minute before heading back to the house.


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